


Dizzy

by KeybladeCryptography



Category: Tokyo Mew Mew
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Kisshu simps for Ichigo, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:41:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25175545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeybladeCryptography/pseuds/KeybladeCryptography
Summary: Ichigo teaches Kisshu to dance. He's a little overwhelmed by how much he loves her.
Relationships: Momomiya Ichigo/Quiche
Comments: 13
Kudos: 20





	Dizzy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dwyndling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwyndling/gifts).



Kisshu’s feet press to the floor over the span of several seconds and the room is dead silent until his heels touch the carpet. His legs tremble, unsteady, unpracticed, fawn-like. He can’t recall the last time he’s ever been so low down. His head spins and his vision blurs with the opposite of vertigo. His hands flare out at his sides to steady himself, particles of dust streaming through the gaps between his splayed fingers. It’s a mid-spring afternoon and the curtains are open and he has never been more awash in light. He fears it will carry him away.

Ichigo’s hand is warm on his bare arm and he looks up at her, dry lips parting with a slight pop. She tilts her head and smiles, the corners of her mouth held aloft by the sunbeams. Her fingertips trail over his veins, bluer than hers, rivers snaking beneath his skin and crisscrossing the imperfect planet of his body. Her hand comes to rest on his shoulder with a firm grip that gives him more confidence and makes the world come into focus. The roles are reversed now - this time she is the one who is coming closer, she is the one who is touching and grabbing and claiming and never letting go and it’s all he ever wanted. He’s still shaky but that’s okay. If he falls, she will surely catch him.

She coaxes him closer in that honeyed voice of hers that makes him melt and he does as he’s told, tentatively placing one foot in front of the other, searching for stable ground. She doesn’t flinch away from him anymore. She’s close enough that he could kiss her if he wanted to, and he does, he always does, but that isn’t what this is about. Her lips are shiny with drugstore lip gloss and there’s a pimple on the left side of her nose and her eyelashes are darker than the rest of her hair, closer to the warm brown of autumn leaves than summer strawberry red. She smells like the café, a cloying combination of coffee and fruit and chocolate and vanilla. She’s perfect.

Her other arm reaches around his neck, painted nails scratching the knobs of his spine. This could all be a trick. She could grab him by the throat and squeeze and break him and he would die happy. But she doesn’t. No, she tells him, “Put your left hand here. Hold on to me.” She doesn’t have to tell him. He’ll hold on forever if she’ll let him. His right arm shakes and he swallows, heart pounding in his reddening ears, but he manages to place his hand on her back. “Lower, Kisshu,” she says and she blushes pink, like the cherry blossom tree she destroyed what seems like so long ago. His cheeks must be darker, the deep scarlet of spider lilies, but he can’t refuse her anything so he slides his hand lower until she tells him to stop. He can feel the faint echo of her heartbeat reverberating through her false ribs. It’s fast.

She starts the music and tosses her music player, a one-of-a-kind birthday gift from Pai, onto the sofa. Ichigo looks up at him expectantly and he would give her the sky if she asked him to but all she wants is for him to step to the left, towards the kitchen. He hesitates too long and she tugs, shaking him from his daze. He’s supposed to lead the dance but how can he, when he’s been chasing and chasing and he would happily follow her to the end of the universe and beyond it? They start to run out of room so she tilts her head to the right, towards the coffee table and this time he’s too quick, matching the rush of his pulse rather than the beat of the music. He tries to spin her but his ankles collide with the table and he steps on her foot.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says breathlessly. He lets her go and steps back away from her, as much as he can when she’s still holding him. He digs his nails into his wrist. They’re long. He should cut them. He tries to focus on the worn leather of his boots but they sway side to side. He’s dizzy.

“No, no, it’s okay, Kisshu. Really. It’s okay. Look at me, Kisshu.” She cups his cheek and he can’t resist the desire to lean into it, though it makes him feel feverish. Her hand dips down to take gentle hold of his chin. To make him look at her. Her eyes are shining, the light in them softer than it used to be. No more glinting anger or flashing fear. “Let’s try again,” she says and he’s still uncertain but he nods as much as her grip on him allows. They resume their previous positions, with her arm around him and his hand on her shoulder, his palm catching the flutter of her heartbeat. “Good,” she says.

They stand in stillness together for a few precious moments until the music starts again from the beginning. Kisshu gets the rhythm right this time. Left. Right. Around. Repeat. She presses her forehead to his and he wonders if he feels clammy. Her bangs tickle his cheek and she smiles. “I love you,” she tells him and each syllable is soft against his skin. Nothing has ever been more important than this moment, with her pressed against him and her voice echoing in his ears, and nothing ever will be. He has to tell her this.

“I love you too,” he says, choking around the words. They’re bigger than his throat, bigger than his body and hers and the room and the house and the world, but they’re important enough to be worth the catch of his breath and the lovely ache in his chest. He has always loved her and he always will. It could only ever be her.

Ichigo hums and it’s infinitely more beautiful than whatever song is playing. “I know,” she says and her expression is coy and Kisshu is once again struck by her beauty. They complete the dance and the music starts to loop over again. “Good,” she tells him again and his knees go weak, every neuron and vein overwhelmed with joy because he’s good. For her, that’s all he wants to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Did my best friend's childhood nostalgia and a lot of free time get me invested in Kishigo ten years too late? Yes. I ship them so hard guys.  
> Uh, if you want you can follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/CrepusculeChaos) but full disclosure, I'm a Kingdom Hearts/Final Fantasy account so. (But I'm willing to change that if there's still a Tokyo Mew Mew fandom in this day and age...)  
> Okay, that's enough of my rambling, thank you for reading!


End file.
